


What You Want and What You Get

by irinokat



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, F/M, First Time, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy Scares, Rough Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 13:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10742892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irinokat/pseuds/irinokat
Summary: When you agree to have sex with him, you think it's just a one-time deal.





	What You Want and What You Get

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a very happy story - it has a relatively happy ending, I guess, but it takes a lot of shit to get there.
> 
> First half of this is porn if that's what you're here for - you can skip the second half if you just want sex.

There’s a small, scattered crowd in Malie Garden when you arrive. You make your way to the center, where you hear Professor Kukui talking with some Team Skull grunts surrounding him, challenging them to a Battle Royal, claiming he can beat them in three moves. A few minutes after you join him, the Skull kids hush, turning toward the bridge behind them. Then they start cheering as a new guy crosses it. He’s tall, hair pure white under a strange set of yellow shades, wearing a black short-sleeved hoodie and sweatpants striped with white designs, a massive Team Skull logo hanging on a chain around his neck. You close your eyes tight for a moment and open them again – you can’t believe you find this guy, who the kids are calling boss, attractive.

He gets in Kukui’s face and smirks. He’s at least a head taller than the both of you. “You think you can take on my guys? Big words.”

“They’d be no problem,” Kukui says back, confident.

“Why don’t you take me on, then?” the boss guy asks. “Oh, right, you don’t want to fight the strongest trainer in the islands.”

“Must not be that strong if I’ve never even heard of you,” you mutter.

He immediately turns and glares at you, and suddenly his height is much more intimidating – you feel yourself flushing as he towers over you. Then he grins, looking you up and down. “Who’s the new pet?”

Kukui pats your shoulder. “She just moved to Alola. Working on her island trials.”

Boss man laughs. “At your age? What kind of wimp are ya?”

“She’s a great trainer,” Kukui shoots back. “Might even be Champion once we get the League started up.” You look at him, startled – he really thinks that?

“Don’t need all that shit. We already know who the best trainer is.” This asshole’s really confident in himself. You can’t help rolling your eyes. He sees. “What, you think you can take big, bad Guzma?”

You shrug. “Let’s battle and see.”

He smirks and starts to back up, making room for a battle – right now. “Fine, bring it. I’ll destroy you.”

The battle’s short – your team is more than capable of handling his Bug-types. When his last Pokémon falls, he looks enraged – for a moment, at you, before he turns away and starts pulling at his hair, mumbling something under his breath. You turn to Kukui. “Is he okay?”

Before he can answer, Guzma comes up to you, holding your earnings. “I’ll remember you,” he says with a grin on his face, barely a hint of the anger from before showing. You take the money from his hand – and he grabs your wrist, grip like a vice. “You won’t beat me again.” He gives you another once-over before he lets go and passes you, motioning for the Skull grunts to follow him.

 

You find yourself in a large, dilapidated mansion in Po Town, tracking down a kid’s stolen Yungoose. You end up on a balcony, wondering why you’re back outside. The only way to go from here is across some shady-looking planks leading to the lowest section of the roof and a place where the wall’s been smashed out. Is this really the only way to get to Guzma’s room besides the stairway with the broken chandelier? You let out a groan and make your way as carefully as you can over the boards.

Once you get back inside, there’s just a hallway with one door to your right and one at the end, at the top of the chandelier staircase. Two grunts are guarding that door – it’s pretty obvious where you need to go. To your surprise, they open the door and let you in as you approach.

When you walk into the room, the door slams shut behind you. You whirl around, thinking you should have been more suspicious of that. Then you feel arms wrapping around you from behind – you try to jerk away, but they just tighten, pulling you back.  You look down at them – familiar purple Team Skull tattoos and gold watch.

“Look who the Meowth dragged in,” Guzma says in your ear as he squeezes you against his body, one of his hands trailing down to your hip. You find yourself shivering at his tone.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Thought I’d make you an offer,” he says casually. “For the Yungoose.”

You have the feeling you know what kind of offer he wants to make – and the idea has heat sparking down from his hands to your abdomen. You try to push that away and say, “I’m not – not interested.” Why did your voice have to break?

“I saw how you were lookin’ at me in Malie,” he says, voice a low growl that sends more sparks through you. “I know you want me.”

You don’t know what to say to that – he’s right, after all. Shouldn’t you be protesting harder than this, trying to pull away from him?

A part of you that’s more than a little bit desperate is begging to give in. You argue with yourself as his hands slide up and down from your ribs to your thighs. This is so wrong – but it could be your only chance – but…

You turn your head towards his. “What do you want?”

He smirks – he knows he’s already got you. “We have a good time, you get the Yungoose back.” His fingers are starting to slip under your shirt.

This is your last chance. Do you resist, or go with him?

You whisper, “Deal.”

Immediately he’s kissing your neck, hands under your shirt, pushing it up as they run over your stomach. One hand keeps going up, taking hold of your breast through your bra. The other pushes downward, under the waistband of your shorts. You stop breathing as his fingers slide over your underwear, reaching down to cup your pussy. He chuckles as he runs two fingers over your clothed lips, already feeling some wetness staining your panties. “Knew you wanted this.”

When you can string together a sentence again, you say, “You don’t waste any time, do you?” It’s the first time anyone’s ever touched you like this. The way he’s doing it is so sudden, not anything like you imagined your first time going.

He pulls his hand out of your shorts. “Just wanted to see how hot you were for me already,” he says as he returns to pulling your shirt up, hands running over your breasts. When his mouth finds the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, he bites you. You cry out, not expecting it. He pulls off and says, “You think I’m gonna let you walk away from the best fuck of your life without a reminder?” You feel your face go bright red as he kisses and sucks on the spot.

Suddenly his hands and lips are off you. You turn to look at him – he’s pulling off his shades and chain. He tosses them behind him, followed by his watch and bracelets. As he starts to slip his hoodie off, you realize how far up your shirt’s been pulled – might as well get it the rest of the way off. You end up crossing your arms over your chest, self-conscious, as he looks at you again.

He laughs and takes hold of your wrists, pulling your arms away. “No point in being shy now!” Looking you up and down, he grins, clearly liking what he sees. His hands travel up your arms to your neck, fingers purposely pressing into the place he was paying so much attention to earlier, making you gasp at the pain. Then they press up to the sides of your face, pushing into your hair as he pulls you in closer to him. You realize with faint horror as he presses his lips to yours that you have no idea what you’re doing, and he’s about to find out.

You do your best to respond to his kiss, but you’re not sure what you should be doing. You grab hold of his arms, hands tense. He pulls away, confused. “What’s wrong?”

He’s holding your head. It’s impossible to move away, even to look somewhere else. You settle for screwing your eyes shut. “I haven’t – I’ve never –”

“You haven’t even been kissed before?” You thought he’d be disappointed. Instead he sounds – almost happy? You open your eyes – he’s smirking again, eyes lighting up. He takes your chin in his hand and pulls you close, saying quietly, “Oh, I am gonna ruin you.” He comes in for another kiss, slightly gentler this time.

While he kisses you, you place your hands on his shoulders. At first you’re nervous, but then you remember how he was all over you before – you slide your hands down his chest. He gives a little hum as your fingers run over his nipples – they’re pierced. His tongue presses against your mouth. You open yours and let his in – which is when you find out his tongue is pierced, too.

Your hands trace down his stomach, over his hips until you feel the edge of his pants under his shirt. You push his shirt up, hands running up his sides as he teases your tongue with his. Before you quite understand what’s happening, your tongue is in his mouth – then his tongue is tangling with yours. After a while caught up in him, you realize you need to come up for air. As you take a deep breath, he pulls his shirt off, then presses you backwards. Soon your legs are hitting his bed – he kicks off his shoes and socks, and you follow suit. He pushes you until you fall backwards onto the bed, him following, kneeling over you.

For a while he’s content to kiss you, hands running over every inch of your body he can reach. You bury your fingers in his wild hair, fingertips scratching over his undercut before disappearing into the white mess. His hands find their way to your shorts, unbuttoning and pulling them down. You pull them the rest of the way off as he starts to kiss your neck again, making his way down your body.

He ends up off the bed as he reaches your stomach. He takes the opportunity to get his pants off, bulge in his boxer-briefs looking massive. He kneels down and pulls you until your hips are at the edge of the bed. You have a hard time not feeling embarrassed as he tugs your underwear down and off. He grins as he looks at your pussy. “I’m the first person to touch you,” he breathes as his fingers run over your folds.

You sit up and watch him as he hooks your legs over his shoulders, running his hands over your thighs several times before pushing back over your hips and stomach. Once he moves back down and gets a firm hold of your legs, he kisses the inside of your thigh, moving up until his tongue’s on your lips.

You’ve never done anything besides rub your clit before – feeling his lips and tongue on your skin is exciting and terrifying. He likes running the tip of his tongue over new areas, then taking a few licks that rub his tongue piercing over your skin. The way he rolls the piercing around your clit is a totally new experience, one you think you could get addicted to.

Then he thumbs open your lips, grinning up at you before his tongue dives in surprisingly deep. Your hips rock forward as he runs his tongue along your inner walls, piercing rubbing the edge of your hole. After a few minutes of that, he goes back to your clit, alternating between licking it with the tip of his tongue, sucking on it, and rolling the piercing over it. It’s not long before you’re coming harder than you ever have on your own, pushing your hips into his face and squeezing your legs. He keeps going even after you’ve finished – it takes you whimpering, “Stop, stop, stop!” before he’ll even consider pulling his mouth away.

You lie back as he lets go of you, trying to get your breath back. Then you feel a weight on the bed – he’s lying beside you, completely naked. He smirks at you again. “Mind already blown?” God, he’s cocky. But apparently he has good reason to be. “Just wait until I’ve got your tight little cunt filled up with my cock. Then you’ll really be screamin’.” He guides your hand to take hold of him – there are a few piercings on the underside of his shaft. His stupid grin gets bigger as you turn on your side and finally take a good look at him, eyes going wide as you realize how big he is. He’s not expecting you to take all of that, is he?

While you consider that, he works the clasp of your bra open and pulls the straps down your arms. You let go of him so he can get it completely off and toss it to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He rolls on top of you and kisses your neck as his hands roam over your chest, pinching and flicking your nipples, making you moan and cry out as he works on you.

When you’re not expecting it, he grabs you and rolls so you’re on top of him, then repositions you so your head is level with his cock. “C’mon, don’t leave me hangin’,” he says.

Nervously, you take hold of him, feeling how big he is. You pump him slowly, careful with his piercings, not quite sure what to do. He groans when you run a couple fingers over his balls. Considering what he just did, he’s probably looking for a blowjob. You lick him a few times before you try taking his tip into your mouth.

As you start to sink down on him, he runs his finger around your entrance. You whine around his cock as he pushes in, clenching around him. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he says as his finger probes you. It feels odd at first, but eventually you relax.

At first you can’t go down very far on him. You pull off and lick his piercings, making him jerk under you – at least he makes it obvious when he likes something. He finds a spot inside you that makes you moan at how good it feels and keeps pressing it, making it difficult for you to think. He gives you a slap on the ass and says, “C’mon, keep goin’!” when you’ve paused a little too long.

You try bobbing on his cock, working your way down as he keeps playing with you. After a while he pulls out and tries sticking two fingers inside you – at first he can barely push them inside together, and it’s uncomfortable. As he keeps working, you slowly relax and loosen up, letting him in deeper. He seems to enjoy your moaning around his cock.

As you keep going, he starts talking more. “I knew you’d be a little slut the first time I saw you.” It feels weird being called a slut; it sends a little thrill through you but at the same time, it sounds like an insult. “Didn’t know you were just waitin’ for me to fuck you, though.” He pulls his fingers out and pulls your lips apart with his thumbs. You can feel his eyes staring at you. “Savin’ your little pussy just for me.” He sticks three fingers in unexpectedly, giving you a jolt. You feel so tight around him, it almost hurts, but it feels so good… “Isn’t this somethin’ to see? Kukui’s little pet bein’ a total slut for big, bad Guzma.” You don’t know why him talking like this is turning you on.

You’re just getting comfortable with your mouth around his piercings when he slaps your thigh. “Hey, stop.” You pull off and turn to look at him as he takes his fingers out of you. Before you can do anything else, he’s flipped you around again and rolled back on top of you. Soon he’s spreading your legs and pressing the head of his cock into your entrance. Even the three fingers didn’t quite prepare you for his dick, how it fills you completely as he pushes in, the piercings rubbing against your walls. You gasp and writhe under him as he buries himself inside you, the tip brushing against something that almost hurts as he manages to completely seat himself. You grasp at his arms and hold tightly onto him as he stops, waiting for you to relax. “How’s it feel?”

“Holy shit,” is all you can manage to squeak out.

“We’re just gettin’ started,” he says as he starts to pull out. You’re surprised how slow he starts out; you assumed he’d just start pounding you into the mattress as soon as he got his dick in, but he takes it easy, letting you get used to his size and the feel of it. Soon, though, he picks up the pace, thighs slapping against your ass, making you cry out as he goes. It’s hard to believe how good it feels; there’s a little discomfort, but god, his cock feels as good as his tongue.

He starts talking again. “You’re takin’ it so good.” He grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging lightly. “Your pussy is so tight, shit, and you’re so fuckin’ wet.” He pounds into you even harder. “Fuck, takin’ it like a little bitch, so good, so good, oh –” For a few minutes he devolves into grunts and swearing, slamming into you. Then, unexpectedly, he pulls out. “Turn over,” he says, breathing hard.

 You whimper at how empty you feel, but obey him, letting him pull you up onto your elbows and knees. He doesn’t go as slow this time sticking his cock inside you, bottoming out and only staying put for a moment before starting to fuck you. Now his piercings run over your g-spot, feeling even better, making you groan. He runs one hand through your hair, grabbing and pulling as he curses, other hand digging hard into your hip. Then his hand moves from your hip to your pussy, rubbing your clit. The pleasure heightens considerably. You can barely manage coherent thought as he keeps going harder and harder.

“Fuck, yeah, come for me, god, that feels so good, come for me, you little slut –” You interrupt him with a choked sob as you orgasm, squeezing tight enough around his cock that it makes him stop for a moment with a groan. You feel overstimulated again as he starts to pound you again, but thankfully it only takes a few minutes for him to finish – you’re surprised as you feel his cock swell and twitch, feel his semen inside you. You collapse to the bed as he pulls out of you. He rolls onto his side, arm falling over your waist.

You consider moving closer to him, but before you can work up the courage to do it, he gets up and starts getting dressed. You roll over and sit up, already feeling sore spots and places that’ll bruise. For a moment you watch him before you remember that you’re naked and cover yourself up with part of his comforter. He laughs when he sees you. “What, gettin’ modest now?” You can feel your face flushing. Once he’s dressed, he reaches into the treasure chest next to his chair and digs around in it before tossing you a Pokéball. You stare at it for a moment before you remember it’s the entire reason you came here. What are you doing?

“Gotta go, babe. It was fun.” He smirks at you one last time before swaggering out the door. You lie back and contemplate what the hell you just did for a few minutes, letting a little bit of self-hate start to fester before you get up on wobbling legs and find your clothes.

 

When you face Guzma at Aether Paradise, he just winks at you and says, “Ready for round two?” Thank god you’re the only one who seems to understand what he means, though you can’t stop yourself from turning bright red. You stomp his team flat, enraging him again – though he still seems angry at himself more than he is at you. He hands off the mansion key without further comment.

After Lusamine runs into the Ultra Wormhole, he grabs your shoulder and tries to say something, but the noise of the machinery and the static in your head is too loud for you to understand him. You watch, horrified, as he runs in after her.

The bruises from your time with him start to show up while you travel with Lillie through Poni Island. You think she can tell you’re lying to her about where they came from, but you don’t want to explain what happened to anyone, much less an eleven-year-old.

Guzma’s completely freaked out when you find him in the other dimension. When you find him, he looks terrified; he immediately walks up to you and embraces you, holding you close as he trembles. After the shock’s worn off, you wrap your arms around him, comforted by his warmth – the strange emptiness you’ve been feeling since you fucked him backs off a little. Soon, though, you have to pull away from him and face Lusamine.

After helping get Lusamine down the canyon, he disappears. You’re frustrated; you wanted to talk with him privately once you had a chance. The next few days seem to drag on even though so much happens – suddenly you’re Champion of Alola and Lillie’s gone. At least you have a job now that you’re Champion; you weren’t sure what you were going to do after your trials once everything settled down.

You hear a knock on your door late at night after the party Kukui throws in your honor. You’re buzzed enough that you’re still awake, and wondering who it could be. Guzma leans against the doorframe as soon as you open it. “How’s it goin’, champ?” From him, the name sounds more like an insult than a compliment.

“Where have you been?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“How did you find me?”

Instead of answering, he runs his fingers over the hickey he gave you, making it sting. “Showin’ this off? How sweet.” You shiver from his touch. “I love how sensitive you are,” he says quietly with a grin.

“Why are you here?” You pull his hand off of you.

“Thought we could celebrate.” He cups your face. “My way.” He kisses you. You relax against him as he slips his fingers into your hair and tugs gently. When he pulls away, you let him in, shutting the door behind him. He presses you up against the door, kissing you hard, hands all over your body. You run your fingers through his hair as he kisses from your jaw to your ear, nipping your earlobe. Then he makes his way down your neck – you shout as he bites down again, sucking on a new spot – he’s marking both sides of your neck. You worry for a moment about how to hide it before he licks your collarbone.

Somehow you manage to lead him to your bedroom while kissing him. He tosses off his hoodie and shirt before he climbs on the bed, making himself at home in your sheets. When you approach the bed, he unbuttons your shorts, pulling them down. You take them off before you straddle him – he pulls you forward until your knees are on either side of his head. You start to ask what he’s doing when he pulls your underwear aside and starts licking you. He grabs your thighs and holds you down, tongue going to town on your pussy while you wiggle around, trying not to buck your hips into his face, trying to find something to hold on to. You end up settling for his hair as he sucks on your clit, occasionally rolling his piercing over it. It doesn’t take long for him to get you to orgasm, rocking your hips on his mouth. Then he won’t stop – it’s almost painful how overstimulated you are – somehow the pleasure is building through the discomfort – you cry out as you come again on his face.

As soon as he lets you go, you move down to his waist and lie down, worried he’ll try it again. “You like that?” You can hear his fucking smirk in his voice.

“Fuck,” you manage to say as you try to get your breath back. “That – oh god.” Your pussy might already be sore.

“Don’t worry, babe, there's more where that came from.” You groan as he rocks his erection against your thigh. “What, you done already?”

“Just – give me a minute to breathe,” you tell him. “That was a lot more intense than I was expecting.”

He rubs your shoulders. “Get ready for the wildest ride of your life, then.”

“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk tomorrow at this rate.”

He grins. “Then I’m doin’ my job right.” He spends the next few minutes helping you get the rest of your clothes off. Then he pulls his pants down and positions you over his hips. Thankfully, he lets you go at your own pace this time, letting you take your time to get used to his cock inside you. He feels so good in your pussy – you almost don’t want to move. You start to rock back and forth, but it rubs your clit against his skin, and you’re still feeling sensitive from earlier – you try pulling up and thrusting back down. You manage to pull a loud groan from him, and it feels good, so you keep going.

His hands keep moving from your breasts to your hips, sometimes guiding you along his cock, sometimes just teasing you. Eventually he starts rubbing your clit – it’s still a little uncomfortable, but more bearable now. You come again on top of him, moaning and clenching around his dick, and he finishes not long after. It feels weird letting him slip out of you – his cum is starting to drip from your pussy down your legs.

When you lie down next to him, he gives you an uncomfortable look and asks, “You on birth control?” He relaxes when you nod. After a few minutes, he pulls his pants up and gets out of bed, picking up his shirt.

You sit up and watch him – he doesn’t even look back at you. “You’re leaving?” you ask, wondering why you’re so disappointed.

“Congrats on the champion thing,” he says, voice sarcastic. He pulls the door shut behind him.

You lie back, wondering what the hell you’re doing, why you just let him do that. For a moment you think about getting up and locking your door, but you’re kind of exhausted after that, and it’s so late… At least you have tomorrow off before you start facing new challengers as Champion.

You only find out later that Team Skull’s broken up, and you never hear about it from him.

 

The one thing you have in your closet with a high collar is an older Kanto-style jacket – at least it’s cold on Mount Lanakila. You still have to try to conceal the bruises partly with make-up, but they’re mostly hidden by the collar. Olivia gives you a couple odd looks, but that’s it.

It’s harder to justify wearing the jacket around Hau’Oli now that you’re living at home again – it’s way too hot. You just have to do your best with make-up. Thankfully people are too polite to say anything about it, and you don’t know anyone well enough for them to be willing to ask you what happened.

Then Professor Burnet asks if you can come in and give her an interview about traveling through the Ultra Wormhole and what Ultra Space was like. The league is still new enough that not many people are challenging it yet – you make your way to Heahea after a short morning match and fill her in with as many details as you can remember.

When you’re done, she smiles and awkwardly scratches her shoulder. “Sweetie, are you doing alright?” she asks.

You blink. “I’m fine.”

She pauses, then hands you a scrap of paper with her number on it. “I know we don’t know each other very well, but – if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call me or Kukui. We’re your neighbors – we’re here for you. Okay?”

You nod, wondering if Kukui’s been more observant than you thought he was, if your collar’s slipped down – or if someone saw Guzma at your house. Burnet engages in a little more small talk before letting you go. You spend the flight back to your house lost in thought.

Guzma stops by the next night. When you hear the knock on the door, you consider telling him no, but he sweeps you up into a rough kiss before you can say anything, and soon you’re too lost in his touch to want to object.

Tonight he doesn’t even take his clothes off – he gets your pants and underwear off and pulls his cock out from his pants in your living room as he presses you up against the wall. Your breath stops as he hitches your legs up around his waist, holding you up with one hand on your ass and with your back pushing into the wall while he gets himself inside you. You wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders, worried you might fall down.

It’s intense, the position hitting new places inside you, the feeling of hanging onto him for dear life sending adrenaline running through you and heightening the sensations. “Take it, you slut,” he growls in your ear as he thrusts, “god, your cunt feels so good, fuck, shit, yeah –” He falls apart into groans and curses, the way he always does when he’s getting close. You risk reaching down to rub yourself as he keeps slamming into you, moaning and whining as your climax starts to build. He finishes inside you with a shout, holding you up as you work on your own orgasm. You come with one of his hands fisted in your hair, pulling your head to the side and whispering to you, calling you his bitch, telling you how well you take his cock.

When he lets you down, he rests against the wall for a few moments while you find your clothes. You turn back to him as he straightens up, heading for the door. “Do you –” He pauses when he hears you speak. You swallow and try again; you started the sentence, might as well finish it. “D’you want to stay over?”

He gives a single, barking laugh. “Nah. Catch ya later, sweetheart.” Somehow he makes everything he calls you sound like an insult. You lock the door behind him and curl up on the couch, wrapping yourself in a blanket, trying to read on your Dex until your eyes hurt and you’re too tired to get in bed.

 

Guzma establishes a pattern, coming over every two or three nights, fucking you until you can’t think straight, and leaving. The only evidence he’s even been there is the soreness and dripping between your thighs and the ache of the new bruises he leaves on you – every once in a while he redoes the hickeys on your neck. When he’s not there, sometimes you wonder why you let him do it. The main conclusion you come to is the sex – it feels so much better than you ever expected it to, even with the aches and pains, and to be honest, it’s the only time you feel close to someone, him surrounding you, pleasuring you until your body can’t handle it.

Sure, you try making friends when you can, but it’s difficult. People seem to feel awkward being around the new Champion. The only real friends you made doing your trials were Hau and Lillie, and now Lillie’s gone, only available through letters and e-mails that come few and far between. At least she seems happy – she’s gotten herself a Bulbasaur and has started working on being a trainer herself. Hau’s thrown himself hard into training under Hala and the other kahunas and rarely hangs around, and besides, he’s not even a teenager yet.

Professors Kukui and Burnet are nice and all, but they’re busy with their jobs all the time, it seems. The Elite Four are alright to talk with when you take breaks at the League, but Hala and Olivia are wrapped up in their other business as kahunas, Acerola’s only fourteen at the oldest, and Kahili is obsessed with golf and her training to the point that it weirds you out a little bit. Sometimes you think about asking her or Olivia for a night out or something, just to have someone to talk to who’s your age, but they always seem so busy.

Meanwhile, you’re not quite sure what to do with yourself when you are home. You rarely have enough time to go train your Pokémon and fill your Dex outside of the League, the way you occupied yourself when you were younger. At first you spend some time catching up on your books and playing video games, but the more time you spend doing that, the more selfish you feel for not doing something productive with your time. You used to draw when you were younger – with some reluctance you start again, on and off, hating your work just enough to put things down for a few nights but not enough to give up completely.

To be honest, Guzma coming over is one of the few things you look forward to. When you realize that, you wonder to yourself if he’s right when he calls you a slut.

On occasion, someone will ask if you’re doing okay, sounding worried. As far as you’re aware, you’re fine – you’ve got a job, you’re feeding yourself and your Pokémon, you’re good enough at battling that you probably won’t have to worry too hard about losing your title for a while. Guzma’s just another bit of security – you can always count on him coming over. So what if you’re not the happiest – life isn’t supposed to be happy all the time, is it? There are ups when you win difficult battles and fuck, there are downs when you’re alone. That’s normal, right?

 

One night a couple months in, you give Guzma a blowjob – you’ve been with him long enough to know what he likes. And part of what he likes is sticking a hand in your hair and tugging, guiding you up and down his shaft while he talks. He loves talking – for a while you were wondering he was trying to turn you on with it, but at this point it seems like he just loves running his mouth. Sometimes you do find it sexy, especially when he’s whispering in your ear, but you find yourself tuning out a lot, letting his words become background noise.

Tonight, though, he says something new, making you pay attention with what feels like a mental crash. “C’mon, you little whore, take that cock all the way down your throat –” You forget the rest of what he says later, most of it meshing with the shit he usually says, but he says that word once more – “whore.” Something about it hits you wrong in a way that his previous names haven’t.

You push yourself as far down on him as you can manage and hold yourself there – a move that’s almost guaranteed to get him to come when he’s this far gone. Once he’s finished and tucked away, you get up and sit on the couch and rub your knees, the ache from kneeling on the wood floor the only thing keeping you from feeling numb.

He throws his arm around your shoulder – the only time he does things like this is when he’s done before you and taking a moment to bask in it. “Fuck, that was good,” he says. You think he’s trying to compliment you. He grins down at you. “Whadda you want? Mouth or fingers?”

“I’m good.” There’s wetness between your legs, but something about him talking earlier has you cooled down, making the mess just uncomfortable.

He stares at you. “You serious?”

“Uh huh.”

He leans over you, his hand trailing over your stomach, heading down toward your shorts. “C’mon, you don’t want –”

You pull his hand away. “I said _no._ ”

Letting go of you completely, he scratches his neck, asking sarcastically, “What crawled up your ass and died?” He stops for a moment. “You on your period again?”

Actually, according to your pill schedule, you should be, but it hasn’t shown up yet – and usually it makes you hornier, if anything. “Am I allowed to just not want to fuck for one night?”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” You wonder if he really does. After a few moments of awkward silence, he asks, “You, uh, want something else?” You glance over at him, not sure what he means. “I dunno, like… cuddling, I guess?”

You shrug. “That might be nice.” He hesitantly wraps his arm around your shoulder again, scooting close enough that his thigh and yours line up.

Even with how annoyed you are with him, you have to admit it’s nice to be like this, touching with no real expectations involved, just being close to someone else. You move to hug him – eventually the two of you end up lying on the couch together, your head on his chest.

After a long time, he coughs and says, “Um, I need to – I gotta get goin’.”

You don’t quite want to let go of him. He’s nice when he shuts up. “Okay.” You don’t move.

He shifts so that you have to get off of him, sitting up. “Seriously, I gotta get movin’.” Halfway to your door, he pauses and turns back to look at you. “So, uh, Wednesday okay?”

You just stare at him until you realize he’s asking if he can come over. “Um, sure.” Why’s he bothering to ask now?

“Okay, see ya.” You lie back as he leaves, still feeling his warmth on the couch.

After that, he stays with you for a while after you’re done, letting you curl up with him. It’s still awkward – he doesn’t take off any more of his clothes than he has to while you’re usually naked, and he doesn’t seem entirely comfortable with it, but it’s better than nothing.

 

Punching the last pill out of your current pack, you dry-swallow it and wonder when your period will finally fucking start. You usually start a couple days into the four placebos in the pack. You want to just get it over with – even though it’s much lighter than it was before the pills, it’s still unpleasant to bleed and use a cup and pads.

Finally, a week into the new pack, you bleed – but only for a day. Even your lightest period usually lasts three. For a minute, your mind turns to the worst situation – then you chide yourself. One weird period doesn’t mean you’re pregnant. Right?

Looking up early pregnancy symptoms just to reassure yourself turns out to be the worst thing you could have done. Every headache, every mild bit of back pain, every morning you feel a little tired waking up – all of it sends you into a mini freak out. There’s no real evidence – you don’t tell Guzma, or anyone else for that matter, but people can tell there’s something on your mind. At least you can manage to put it aside when you’re battling – for the most part. Every once in a while the thought crawls across your mind that this is what you deserve for being such a fucking slut.

After a few weeks, you’re tired of freaking out – you fly to Hau’Oli after you’re done at the League and buy two pregnancy tests, feeling like everyone’s eyes are on you, like the clerk’s silently judging you – maybe you’d feel this way if you weren’t kind of famous, but being recognized as the Champion just makes it worse.

You take the first one when you get home – it’s negative. You force yourself to wait a week to take the other one, just to make sure. You sigh with relief when it turns up negative, but the thought won’t stop kicking at the back of your mind.

The next day, you pull Olivia aside and say, “Um, I’ve got kind of a personal question.”

She nods. “What’s up?”

“Um –” Maybe you should have asked Burnett, but you see Olivia more often… “Which gynecologist do you go to? I don’t really know much about doctors here.”

Her eyes soften looking at you. “Is everything okay?”

You’re not about to spill your guts to her on break. “Just need my annual visit soon.” At least that’s true – you’ve got another two months’ worth of birth control on your current prescription and that’s it.

She gives you a name and a number, patting you on the shoulder before she returns to her challenge room. You take another few minutes to call and set up an appointment in three weeks before you have to get back to the battling.

Guzma comes over a few nights later. When you’re done, he heads to the bathroom – and comes back with something wrapped in toilet paper in his hand.

You’ve been putting on pajamas – you stare at his hand and ask, “What the hell?”

He gives you a mildly horrified look and shows you the pregnancy test he’s cautiously holding – you realize you haven’t taken out the bathroom trash in a while. “Tell me this isn’t positive.”

You take another look at it, just to be sure it hasn’t somehow magically changed since you took it. “It’s not.”

His relief is palpable. “You’re sure?”

“That’s what the little blue dash is for. It’s negative.” You push him back out the door. “Now throw that away and wash your hands.”

When he comes back and lies down with you, he’s tense. After a while he says, “Should we use condoms?”

You blink. “Would your piercings rip them?”

“I can take them out.”

You sit up and stare at him. As far as you’re aware, he’s pretty proud of his piercings. He’s never mentioned removing them before. “I mean, at this point we’ve been going without for so long, I don’t really see the point of it.”

“If it means a lower chance of you getting … y’know…” You’ve never seen him this uncomfortable.

“Birth control’s, like, ninety percent effective.”

“But there’s still that ten percent.”

“What are you so worried about?”

He curls in on himself. “I… I am so not ready to be a dad.”

You rub a hand through his hair, trying to get him to relax a little – you realize this is the first time you’ve seen him freaked out, seen him this far removed from his usual cockiness. “I’m not exactly ready to have kids, either.” After a moment, you say, “I mean, if I got pregnant now, I’d probably get an abortion.”

He stares up at you. “It’s that easy for you?”

You shrug. “I mean, I’ve never actually been pregnant, who knows what the hell I’d do if it actually happened, but… I’m not quite ready to settle down like that. I’m…” You pause when the word “happy” is about to come out of your mouth. Are you happy with how things are? You think about the sex you just had. The word “whore” floats through your mind unbidden.

He doesn’t seem to notice your hesitation. “Good. I’m not either.”

Would he really feel obligated to stick around if he knocked you up? You’re not confident he would. Trying to get that thought out of your head, you say, “You took care of a bunch of teenagers for a while. That doesn’t count as being a dad?”

“God, no.” He cringes. “I was not their fucking dad. And teenagers are not the same thing as a baby. As something you made.”

You fall silent for a while. Trying to feel like there’s a definitive end to the conversation, you say, “So we agree that we are definitely not having a baby.”

“Fuck no.” He doesn’t stick around much longer, but it’s kind of nice to realize as you’re going to sleep that you’ve had your first actual conversation, even if it was about an unpleasant subject.

 

It comes as a shock when you finally lose a Champion battle.

You’ve been doing so well, you weren’t expecting someone to have rigorously studied your team and set up a counter for every Pokémon you have. That’s the consequences you get for not switching your team up the way you should have.

There’s a short ceremony for the cameras to officially pass the title on. You manage to keep a bland smile on your face while you fall apart inside, rushing home once everything’s done. _What the hell do I do now?_

This was all you had. The drawing thing is never going to be more than a hobby. You guess you could go back to trying to fill your Dex, but after doing it once in Johto and trying again in Unova, doing it a third time just to say you did it feels… not very meaningful. Besides, you’ve started to feel bad for just leaving Pokémon sitting around in boxes, doing nothing – why even have them if you’re not going to raise them and love them, too?

Do you get a job now? What are you even qualified to do? You didn’t do school beyond the basics as a kid, choosing to keep going as a trainer when you and your mom moved to Unova. You’d have to move again to go back to school – there’s not much higher education on the islands, Kukui and Burnet studied in other regions. Maybe you could make it as a trainer fighting tourists, but who has that much interest in a “former” champion? Red and Blue rule the Battle Tree, but they’re _actually_ famous, they didn’t just luck into being champ by being there at the right time, and they held their titles for longer than a few months. You’ve never specialized in a certain type, and there aren’t any gyms to apply to out here anyway.

You really should have put more thought into your move other than just “paradise” and “island trials” – you should have listened to your mother and chosen the region to go to on more than just impulse. How embarrassing would it be to go from being Champion to being a store clerk at the Pokécenter?

The only thing you actually have going on in your life is Guzma. And as you think about that, you can’t stop the chorus of “slut,” “bitch,” and “whore” going through your head. This is what you have? Fucking some guy who couldn’t give less of a shit about you, who makes you feel like a piece of garbage? What have you been doing?

You’ve been coasting along, hoping life would throw you into the place you needed to be. And you’ve been lucky up ‘til now, getting by as a trainer. Now you have nothing.

Hours pass as you sit curled up on the couch, immobilized by panic. At some point the sun sets. Then there’s a knock at the door. You try to make yourself get up, but your body doesn’t want to move and your muscles are cramping from being locked in the same position for so long. The knocking gets louder and a little bit frantic. You can’t make yourself move any faster – you can’t even stand up, your legs are asleep. You stop when the door opens – were you really so freaked out you didn’t remember to lock it earlier? The light turns on. Guzma stares at you.

 As he shuts the door behind him, you do what you can to get your voice working again. “I – I –” You feel like you’re going to choke on the words. Then they come out all in a rush. “I can’t, I can’t tonight, I can’t, with you, I just – no –” Suddenly you’re babbling, unable to make yourself shut up. A few tears start to leak from your eyes; you wipe furiously at your face, trying to get them to go away.

For a moment, he just stands there, looking at you. Now that the floodgates have opened, you can’t stop. You wish he would just leave.

Instead, he comes over and sits next to you. “What’s wrong?” He sounds genuinely worried for once.

You try to explain, but the words won’t come out right and you’re not sure you want to actually tell him. Everything that comes out of your mouth is a choked, garbled mess between hyperventilating breaths. And your chest is starting to hurt, which is making everything worse.

He gets out his phone and calls someone. “Plumes? Yeah, this is a _fuckin’_ emergency, you know I don’t call – Look, just get your ass over here now, Route 1. _Please._ I will buy you a fuckin’ million cups of coffee – just please, _now._ ” With that, he hangs up. He tries to give you a hug – you jerk away from him hard. “Look, it’s gonna be okay, okay? I promise, it’ll be fine.” He keeps talking, but nothing he says is very reassuring. You wish you could figure out how to get your mouth to tell him to shut up. Thankfully, after a few minutes he leaves to let you freak out in peace.

Then he’s back, with Plumeria of all people. Her eyes go wide when she sees you. She sits on the coffee table in front of you, looking back to Guzma to command, “Go sit somewhere else.” She turns back to you, talking slowly. “Has this ever happened before?” You manage to shake your head no. “You’re probably having a panic attack. Is your heart racing?” Nod. “Do you feel dizzy?” Nod. “You still here with me?” You don’t know what she means. “Well, it seems like you are. Sit back and try to relax.” You do what you can, but you can’t stop yourself from shaking and tensing – you almost want to rock back and forth. “Okay, breathe with me. We’re gonna get through this, okay?” She starts taking slow, deep breaths. It takes a while before you can do anywhere near the same, but it helps just to listen to her at first.

After what feels like forever, you’re breathing at a somewhat more normal rate, your muscles are starting to relax, and you’re shaking, but you feel more in control of yourself. Plumeria leaves the room, coming back with Guzma and a glass of water. She presses the glass into your hand.  “Drink slow,” she says. “Just – you need to take everything slow right now, okay?”

“Th-thanks,” you manage to say.

They give you a few more minutes to calm down before Guzma asks, “What happened?”

You try to wipe the tears out of your eyes. “It’s – it’s f-fucking st-stupid.” Why does he even care?

“That’s the fun thing about panic attacks,” Plumeria says. “Really stupid things can start them. If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine.”

“Not – not r-right now.” You glance at Guzma.

They wait with you for several more minutes, trying to make sure you’re okay. While you do your best to relax, they talk quietly and joke around – it’s weird to see Guzma acting like a decent human being. Maybe this is how he is with everyone but you. Then again, you’ve never heard anything great about him from anyone.

When everyone’s pretty sure you’re done freaking out, Plumeria gets up to leave. “You start having more of those, go see a doctor,” she says. “Just – remember to breathe. It’s hard, but you’ve gotten through it once, you can do it again.”

You nod. “Thanks. I – I really appreciate it.” She gives you a sympathetic smile before she heads out the door.

Guzma sticks around once she’s gone. “Was that my fault?” he asks after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

You try to think about it. “Sort of – not really – kinda.”

“It was my fault.”

“I…” You curl into yourself again. “Why do you even care?” He tries to respond, can barely start a sentence. The tears had been starting to dry up, but now they start coming again. You kind of hate yourself for being unable to stop crying, among other things. “That’s what I thought.”

“Look, I do care, I just –”

“All you care about is getting a half-decent fuck.”

He cringes. “I mean, that was what it started out as –”

You keep going; it’s almost like you can’t stop yourself. “I mean, I get it, that’s all I’m worth, but god, at least until today I could pretend I was something other than just your bitch.”

“Whoa, you’re not –”

“And I bet you don’t even want me being your stupid little slut anymore because now it’s complicated and it’s not just you coming over and fucking me whenever you feel like it.” You hug your knees up to your chest and bury your head in your arms, trying to get yourself to shut up, wishing he’d just go and get it over with.

You feel the couch cushion next to you sink down. He puts his arm around you. “You’re not my bitch.”

“Then why the hell do you call me that?” You’re not even sure if he can hear you through the tears and the muffling from your arms.

“Because I’m a fucking selfish bastard and I don’t think.” He puts his other arm around your knees. “I just fucking talk and talk and if it sounds good, I say it. I didn’t mean – I don’t mean –”

You look up at him. “I don’t believe you.”

“I – yeah, guess I deserve that.” He’s being much quieter than usual. Something about seeing you panic seems to have shaken him.

“I just – this isn’t really how I pictured my first relationship going.”

For a while, he’s silent. When he does speak, he just says, “I fucked up bad.”

“I should’ve just said no a long time ago.” You grab your hair and tug hard, wanting to feel the pain physically. “I should’ve – but the sex was so good, and I couldn’t – I couldn’t –”

He takes hold of your hand and tries to get you to loosen your grip. “I came in and stomped all over you. I didn’t give you any room to say no. I probably wouldn’t have even listened.” When he’s pried your fingers from your hair, he threads his fingers between yours and holds your hand tight. “I’m a piece of shit.”

You lean into him. “I guess we have one thing in common.”

“What?”

“Hating ourselves.” That manages to make him laugh, but it feels sad and forced. “I just…” You pause. “This isn’t what I wanted. Not at all.”

“What do you want?”

You think about that for a while. “I don’t know.” You rub your eye. “What the hell am I doing with my life?”

“Better than me, champ.”

Now you have to admit it. “I lost today.”

“Oh.” He holds you tighter. “I’m… sorry.” It sounds like the word’s never crossed his mind before, much less his lips. After a while he says, “You still have plenty you can do around here, at least.”

“What do you do?” You’ve never thought about what he does every day. He hasn’t been the only selfish one.

He lets out another sad laugh. “Nothing. No one wants a former gang leader working for ‘em.” He gets quiet again. “I’m just lucky people want to try to beat my ass down at the Battle Tree. At least that’s somethin’.” He buries his face in the back of your shoulder. “I fuckin’ moved back in with my parents. How fuckin’ pathetic is that?” He squeezes your hand. “And here I am callin’ you a bitch tryin’ to pretend like there’s someone lower than me, and look how that’s turned out.” After a few minutes, he follows that with, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m a piece of –”

You interrupt him. “Calling yourself names doesn’t help.”

“You got any other ideas, I’d love to hear ‘em.”

There’s a long silence while you try to think. Finally, you say, “Maybe we should stop seeing each other.”

“I don’t blame you, not after all the shit I’ve done.” He starts to let go of you.

“I mean, yeah, you’ve done a lot of shit.” You rub your head. “I mean, god, I’ll miss the sex.” He nods. “And talking like this… I don’t know. Maybe something’s here. Maybe.”

“The whole relationship thing hasn’t ever worked out for me,” he admits.

“At the very least, we need a long break.”

“Okay.”

It sucks pulling away from him. “Okay.”

He finally unwraps himself from his hold on you and gets up. “So that’s it?”

You sigh. “Give me your number?” He gives you a questioning look. “Just in case. I might need Plumeria again.” He plugs it into your Dex before he heads out the door. You get up long enough to lock it behind him before you tumble back onto the couch, thoughts drifting down into a long sleep.

 

Eventually, things get better.

Between your mom’s urgings and Professor Burnet’s encouragement, you see a doctor. Turns out you’ve been pretty depressed for a while now – it seems like you were the only one who couldn’t see it. You get on pills, you force yourself to talk to the therapist, and at some point you find you can think about yourself without immediate self-hatred rising.

You end up getting a job at the trainer’s school in Hau’Oli – it’s encouraging working with kids and their Pokémon, and you know battling well enough to be able to teach something about type match-ups and effective strategies and moves. That last bit ends with you talking to Professor Kukui more – between him and Burnet, you feel like you might have something resembling family out here.

Turns out Olivia and Kahili aren’t so busy that they can’t spare some afternoons and evenings to hang out. And Plumeria knows more than just how to calm your occasional panic attacks – she’s a great trainer to battle, and she’s only a year or two younger than you. The day you’re able to write to Lillie and realize you’re actually making friends is a happy one.

One day, you call Guzma, just to make sure he’s doing okay. One day, he shows you the bruises under his shirt – the reason he stopped taking his clothes off. One day, you and Plumeria show up to move him out of his parents’ house and into his own apartment. One day, he starts working with Hala and eventually becomes a trial captain, the kahunas breaking the rules just this once when they see how great he is with the kids on their island challenges.

At some point you end up back in bed together – a lot more slowly and with a lot more care. He learns to shut his mouth sometimes. You learn to open yours. It’s not perfect – he’s still a little too rough all around and you let things fester and get mad – but it’s what you’ve got. Maybe someday you can even call it love.

Maybe sometimes it’s true that time heals all wounds.


End file.
